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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345553">Rats Don't Dance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxietyAvocado/pseuds/AnxietyAvocado'>AnxietyAvocado</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2001), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, look it's canon now that yuki can't dance, yukeru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:02:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,153</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxietyAvocado/pseuds/AnxietyAvocado</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It might have surprised anyone who knew him. Yuki was tall and slim, with long fingers that seemed to be made for spanning a piano (although the girls who followed him around had other, less appropriate ideas of what those fingers could do), and a perceived grace that everyone - even the people who didn’t like him that much - envied. And yes, he was an accomplished martial artist, and he fairly looked like he was floating when he walked down the hallway. But the unfortunate truth of the matter was that when he truly needed to be graceful, Yuki was as clumsy as a bull in a china shop. </p><p>He frequently knocked things off his desk when he got agitated. He always managed to knock things over in the kitchen on the rare occasions that he cooked. And most horribly of all, he couldn’t dance to save his own life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Manabe Kakeru/Sohma Yuki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rats Don't Dance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/floraltohru/gifts">floraltohru</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Was I thinking of the movie Cats Don't Dance when I wrote this? Yes, yes I was.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Yuki always hated the story about the girl who kissed the frog and turned him into a prince for two reasons. The first one was that he could hardly go a day without his self proclaimed “fan club” calling him a prince, which resulted in those who didn’t like him as much making frog noises whenever he walked down the hallway. The second one was that he always figured it should be the other way around - the prince was just a facade, and the animal was what mattered. The animal showed who you really were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Yuki were to be turned into an animal, he knew it wouldn’t be a frog. It wouldn’t even be a rat, no matter how much his family believed in the zodiac. No, Yuki Sohma knew that he would have the unfortunate fate to turn into a bull - specifically a bull in a china shop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It might have surprised anyone who knew him. Yuki was tall and slim, with long fingers that seemed to be made for spanning a piano (although the girls who followed him around had other, less appropriate ideas of what those fingers could do), and a perceived grace that everyone - even the people who didn’t like him that much - envied. And yes, he was an accomplished martial artist, and he fairly looked like he was floating when he walked down the hallway. But the unfortunate truth of the matter was that when he truly needed to be graceful, Yuki was as clumsy as a bull in a china shop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frequently knocked things off his desk when he got agitated. He always managed to knock things over in the kitchen on the rare occasions that he cooked. And most horribly of all, he couldn’t dance to save his own life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That last was a fact that he tried to keep hidden from his classmates. Over the years, many girls - and even a few guys - had asked him to dances, and every single time Yuki turned them down. This had earned him a reputation as an aloof and distant person that no one could ever hope to be worthy of, but it wasn’t that complicated. It was just that Yuki knew if he stepped out on a dance floor, he would embarrass himself so thoroughly that he would probably die on the spot and spend the rest of eternity haunting the school gym. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This act had served him well over the past few years, but as a senior and the Class President, Yuki was now obligated to not only set up and decorate for the school’s Prom, he had to attend to crown Prom Queen and King. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he couldn’t avoid it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which meant he needed a date. And to learn how to dance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was how he ended up in the storage room of the Student Council office, huddled in a corner, watching videos about how to dance when Kakeru Manabe walked in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, Yun-Yun,” he said, spinning on his heel to face away from him. “Lock the door next time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like that,” Yuki replied irritably. “It’s… research.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Kakeru asked with a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yuki scrambled to his feet and shoved his phone in his pocket. Of all of the co-workers to find him in here, Kakeru was the one he wanted to encounter the least out of everyone. The loud-mouth Vice President would surely start spreading stories about what he thought he saw the minute he left the room, and Yuki knew that something like that would undo all of the good work he had tried to accomplish and absolutely decimate his reputation. And unfortunately, that same loud-mouth was blocking his exit from the storage closet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s it going to take to keep you quiet?” he muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other boy turned to face him, leaning against the door frame with one shoulder, arms crossed and a ridiculously self-satisfied smirk on his face. It was insufferable, how smug Kakeru looked while he stood there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me what you were doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, then I guess the whole school will hear about how their loveable Yun-Yun likes to get it off in a storage closet to… let’s see - what would sound better? Muckbang videos or sexy ASMR?” Kakeru grinned at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, yes I do,” Yuki groaned. “You are the literal worst human in the known universe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So then tell me the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goddamnit. There was no way he was getting out of this, Yuki realized. “I was… trying to learn how to dance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The howl of laughter that his words were met with were an assault on his ears. The sound, much like the rest of Kakeru was overdone, outlandish, exaggerated, too much all together. Why must everything be so over the top with him? It’s like Ayame all over again, theater-level flourishes and loud voices and just… too much. Taking up too much space. Using up too much oxygen. Being too much of everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, Yuki considered, that also meant too much confidence. And as he had been perfectly happy to prove during meetings, Kakeru had just enough confidence to dance and not look like a fool no matter what he was doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teach me,” Yuki said, voice colored with desperation and more than a hint of self-loathing. “Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waiting was torture. Absolute, all encompassing, hellish torture. Standing there staring with as much pleading as he could put into his face, Yuki waited for Kakeru to answer him. In an environment as competitive as their school, he had just handed his Vice President enough power to ruin him, take him out of whatever political game you could call high school student government, ruin his reputation, and make the rest of his life in this town a living hell. And terrifyingly enough, Yuki wasn’t sure what the other boy would do. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this vulnerable with someone, and it felt as though his soul, his very being, was scraped raw, exposed and unprotected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two things happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first was that he realized that Haru might be right and that he was too dramatic for his own good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second was that Kakeru cracked a smile at him and said, “Sure, but I have conditions. First - I don’t wear a dress. And as cute as you looked that one time, you don’t wear one either. Second - you buy me dinner. And third…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the third one?” Yuki rasped, waiting for the axe to fall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t expect me to put out after the first date,” Kakeru said with a wink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten minutes later, Yuki was still standing in the doorway to the storage closet, Kakeru long gone, still wondering if the boy was serious. He didn’t know if he hoped he was, or he wasn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was leaning toward the first one. </span>
</p>
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